


Candy Apple Red (Prompt #2)

by Lawsonia_Inermis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco in high heels and lipstick, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Romance, Smut, cross-dressing kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lawsonia_Inermis/pseuds/Lawsonia_Inermis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When out shopping with Hermione, Harry sets eyes upon a stunning pair of stilettos. AKA,  in which Harry manages to get Draco into a pair of candy apple red pumps, and matching lipstick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candy Apple Red (Prompt #2)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 2 of 337 - "Candy Apple Red" ; Special thanks to my beloved beta, thefeelsinourships on tumblr!

Harry knew, from the second he laid eyes on them, that he had to get Draco in them.

He’d been out with Hermione that day, after she and Ron had had a rather pointless (not that he’d tell either of them that) lovers’ spat. She’d stomped (well, floo’d) to his place immediately, and demanded that he take her shopping.

As she’d angrily tiraded about what an asshole her husband was (‘took you long enough to figure that out,’ Draco had huffed unhelpfully from the kitchen counter) and how she was never going home (‘you say that every time,’ he’d said with an exaggerated eye roll, ‘but you still always go back to your weasel husband and weasel children in the end’), Harry had thrown on a sweatshirt and jeans, and searched for his wallet. It took him almost ten minutes to find the thing, buried the pocket of the trousers Draco had worn the last time he’d went to a muggle pub. He made a mental note to scold his boyfriend, not so much for using his money, but for taking his things without saying anything.  
When he’d returned to the main room, Hermione had calmed down considerably and was drinking a rather large mug of tea on one of their island counter stools. Draco was looking pretty satisfied with himself, and stood on the opposite side.

“I suppose you’re right,” Hermione huffed, taking another gulp of tea, before setting the mug down on the counter, “but I’m taking Harry for the day, anyways.”

Draco scowled.

Harry chuckled.

The noise had them both looking up.

“Harry!” Hermione addressed, sounding rather delighted, to his relief. “Are you ready?”

“Yup,” he’d responded, going over to give Draco a goodbye kiss. His lover didn’t respond, and instead glared at him with cold eyes. 

Hermione made her way to their front door, probably to pick through the couple pairs of shoes she kept at their place.

“It’s our day off,” Draco huffed, angrily. He fixed Harry with an accusing stare.

Harry couldn’t help but wince. “I know,” he attempted but placate, but if the look on Draco’s face meant anything, it was not forgiveness. “I haven’t gone out with Hermione in a long time,” he added, this time pleadingly, “I can’t just say no to her.”

“Well,” Draco snapped, taking a step back. “Have fun shopping.”

His lover then proceeded to stomp his way to back to their room, and slam the door.

The fight (if he could call it that) had been lingering in his mind throughout the day. He’d already spent five hours following his friend down muggle shopping streets, with arms full of bags getting progressively heavier and a wallet getting progressively lighter. Hermione, mind, always offered to pay, but Harry had more money than he knew what to do with, and rather enjoyed seeing her mood get better and better as her collection of dresses grew and grew.

They’d been in a shoe shop when he’d found them.

Clerks always assumed they were lovers when they went out, but Harry didn’t mind too much. It’s not like he expected them to understand their friendship, when it had been strengthened by a seven-year-long threat of death. He’d just smile and nod when they complimented how well they looked together, and feel bad that Draco was probably home alone, sulking. 

He wished he could say it was because his mind was already on his boyfriend, but his mind had been on his boyfriend all day, and this hadn’t happened until now.

The clerk had been showing him their fall collection, and pushing him to buy a ‘surprise’ present for his girlfriend when he’d seen them.

They had to be at least ten centimetres tall, but they were sleek, and glossy, and red.

A brilliant candy apple red.

Hermione chose that moment to reappear. She took one look at his face, followed his gaze to the shoes, and sighed.

“Harry, don’t.”

“Hush,” he’d snapped, immediately, before turning to the clerk. “Do you have these in a…?” he paused, trailing off. What was Draco’s womens size?

“A 42,” Hermione piped in, immediately, “or a nine.”

“Nine,” the clerk clarified, before glancing down at her feet. He looked very confused, but didn’t protest, immediately going to retrieve the requested product. 

“He’s probably huffing up a storm, you know,” Hermione continued, once the clerk was out of earshot, “of rage, at home.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, still staring transfixed at the pair of pumps of display. 

“You know,” Hermione added, as the clerk reemerged from the back room with a shoe box, making his way towards them, “that makeup place down the street had a lipstick that matched those rather well, if you wanna go back.”

“Please,” Harry had all but choked, finally jerking his eyes from the display, although with quite some effort. “Please.”

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was a good two weeks before he’d brought the shoes up, but he’d thought it out well enough that he was sure Draco would say yes.  
After he’d come home that day, having spent almost eight hours out with Hermione (having shopped, eaten, and drank a fair amount of alcohol), he and Draco had gotten into a fight. It was no surprise, and it had him sleeping on the couch for two nights, and then pampering and spoiling his attention loving boyfriend for the three days following, as often as he could with their busy work schedules. 

Draco had forgiven him, of course, after a fair amount of begging, and more love confessions than Harry ever remember having made before. His efforts were worth it, though, and he knew this when Draco had finally allowed him to hold him again, stroking his soft hair and kissing his pale skin until his angel like boyfriend was falling asleep in his arms.

Draco, who could make a garbage bag and burnt sneakers look good if he wanted to, would look stunning in those shoes.

Harry had to get him into them. 

Draco had been in a really good mood this day, having caught someone on their aurors’ most wanted list almost single-handedly that morning. If finding him had been a coincidence, the only ones who knew that were Harry and Draco himself, anyways. 

To celebrate, Harry had taken him out to his favorite restaurant in Wizarding London, despite the fact that the place was always stuffy and packed with reporters and Harry himself hated it. Although Draco never said it out loud, Harry knew he appreciated it when he did things like this. 

He felt kind of bad that for plotting, but Draco had always seemed to think it was hot when he was dishonest, so he didn’t let his mind linger on the sentiment for too long.  
After dinner, they’d apparated home, and the second they’d gotten through the door, Harry had pushed Draco up against the wall and showered him with kisses, soft and affectionate mixed with hot and passionate.

His boyfriend was weak-kneed and panting when he’d mumbled, softly, against Harry’s lips.

“You want something from me.”

Harry winced, immediately, and pulled back guiltily.

“You could tell?” he asked, looking down at his feet.

Draco snorted in response, and reached out to take Harry’s face in his hands, tilting it back so their eyes met again. “I’m not mad,” he smirked, “if anything, I’m pleased.”

Harry felt the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against his lover’s. “Yeah?” he mumbled.

“Mmhmm,” Draco hummed, his fingers curling into Harry’s messy black locks and gently tugging him back, so his words wouldn’t be muffled by his other half’s mouth. “So?” he’d encouraged, intrigued. “What is it?”

Harry licked his lips, once, twice, and watched Draco’s eyes trace the movement. “Follow me,” he’d said, eventually, and tugged the slightly older boy after him, and towards their study.

Draco looked around the room curiously, as if he didn’t spend hours every day in front of the bookshelf, researching and reading. When he heard the file cabinet open, his eyes fell on Harry. He stared at the box he pulled out for a long moment, before his eyes flicked up to meet his lover’s. 

“Open it,” he demanded, eyes undeniably wide.

Harry opened it.

Draco’s jaw dropped, and he stared, completely flabbergasted, at the pumps and lipstick for a long, silent moment.

His gaze then shifted to meet Harry’s own emerald one.

Harry knew his face was flaming. He cleared his throat, and then asked, rather uncomfortably, “Will you wear them for me?”

Draco didn’t reply for a very long time. When he finally padded across their floor, rather quietly, and took the box from his boyfriend, Harry’s heart was in his throat. “Wait for me in our room,” he ordered, gently closing the lid, “I’ll… meet you there, in a minute.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “Yeah… yeah, thanks.”

“No problem,” Draco responded, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The anticipation was killing him. 

Harry sat on the thick, dark covers on the bed he shared with his lover, twiddling his thumbs both comically and nervously. Every ten seconds or so, he would shoot a furtive glance to the door. He shifted left and right, crossing and uncrossing his legs, his cock already half-hard. A million images were flashing through his head, each ten times more erotic than the last, and none even close to comparing to the real thing when Draco finally walked through the door.

The bright, candy apple red lipstick was a stark contrast to his pale skin. His usually thin upper lip was plumped up and bright, the lower one protruding in a cute pout. Silvery blue eyes fluttered under pale lashes, and the natural paleness of his lover was a harsh variance to the makeup. 

He’d foregone a shirt. Scribbled across his torso in a clumsy scrawl (and there was no way Draco had written it himself) was “Property of Harry Potter”, in the same lipstick adorning his pretty face. The bottom corner of the H dipped below his pants, where high waisted black leggings (Hermione’s? It must’ve been her to finish the script, too, and Harry might’ve been mortified giving her an insight to his sex life, if it hadn’t been her to suggest the lipstick in the first place) met his pale white torso in a disparity even more intense than the red and white had been. Skin tight, the bottoms hugged his hips, ass, cock, thighs and calves, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

When Harry’s eyes finally found the stilettos, he ceased to breathe. A beast he didn’t know he had within him demanded immediate control of his body, and had him across the floor in one flat second. He grabbed Draco’s slim, bare wrist roughly and shoved him around, against the wall.

The effect the shoes had was amazing. Draco’s usually already perk and pretty bottom was tight and defined, his thighs and calves progressively more flexed and defined, the closer they got to his skinny little ankles, cupped at the heel with the curvaceous, glossy material. He could see the bones leading up to his lover’s toes, pressing up against his skin with the strain, and the little space between each of the appendages, looking like little cracks against the curve of the shoes’ low dipping toe.

Harry groaned in his lovers ear, and pressed him flush against the wall. He couldn’t control his body, and his hips were rolling and thrusting against Draco’s ass roughly, and irregularly.

“God,” he panted in his boyfriend’s ear, “you look fantastic. Fuck.”

Draco released a breath chuckle against the wall, pushing back on Harry’s thrusts, and causing him to groan out with the friction. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry assured, all but panting the answer into the pale curve of Draco’s neck. “Yeah, so good.”

Draco squirmed a little against him, and let out a sweet whining sound when Harry shoved a hand down his front, to grip his crotch through the almost non existent material of his tights. “Are you--” - a moan punctuated his sentence - “--planning to rut me until you cum, or take me to the bed and fuck me like a real man?”

Harry’s lips curved into a smile against Draco’s skin, and he dropped a gentle kiss to his shoulder before yanking him violently towards the bed, groping and rutting at him clumsily, even as they spun and stumbled onto the covers.

Harry was infinitely pleased to wind up atop Draco, their chests and crotches pressed together, faces close and lips hovering in an almost kiss.

“Better?” he purred, going for seductive. The soft chuckle Draco let out could tell him nothing of his success. 

“Yeah,” Draco said again, hand reaching up to tangle in his thick, messy hair. He dragged Harry down for a long, rough kiss. 

Harry found himself moving his hips in tandem with his tongue, every twist, curl, thrust and flick of the muscle being repeated against his lover’s hard cock. Sweet moans, gasps and pants could be from either actions, but Harry couldn’t find himself caring as he plundered the two intimate parts of his lover with violent passion.

Draco eventually jerked his head back, lipstick smudged and slicked with spittle. It was between pants that he choked out, desperately; “Fuck me.”

Somehow, the words sobered Harry. He pulled back from his lover, looking down at the gorgeous, debauched spectacle he made, sprawled on the bed beneath him - with the ‘rt’ from ‘property’ and ‘f’ from ‘of’ on his belly smudged - and shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said, and with effort rolled away from his lover, so that he was sitting beside him as opposed to on top. 

Draco was glaring at him something fierce. 

“Why don’t you try dancing for me, love?” he grinned, saturating his words with provocation, and reclined in the covers lazily, and putting the bulge in his crotch on obvious display. 

Draco eyed him up and down, with glazed eyes, and licked his lips distractedly. “What do I get out of it?”

Harry snorted, affection for his lover welling in his chest. (Of course he’d ask that, how could he do anything if there wasn’t some gratification for him?) “Well,” he replied, mirroring Draco by looking his lover up and down, licking his lips deliberately the whole while. If Draco realized his intent, he didn’t let it show. “I’ll fuck you?” he ended it in a question, but his expression was teasing. 

“You will anyways,” Draco declared, arching from where he still lay on the bed his to emphasize his slim torso. His ribs got progressively more defined with the bend of his spine.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Harry responded, flicking open the button on his jeans, and tugging his fly down slow. “You’re so pretty, love, I don’t think I’ll need to touch to get off.”  
Draco’s eyes narrowed, as if to say, “you wouldn’t dare”.

Harry took it as a challenge, and tugged his hot, throbbing cock out of his pants. Not breaking eye contact with Draco, he swirled his thumb around the head, gathering precum with the first motion and spreading it with those following. 

The silver-blue that captivated him broke from his gaze, trailing down to eye his cock. Whatever it was that made Draco’s decision, Harry didn’t know, but soon his boyfriend was standing back from the bed, waving an absent hand at the wireless, wandlessly and wordlessly turning it. The display of power - especially with Draco’s gaze intent upon him, the whole time - caused his cock to jump rather indiscreetly in his grip. Draco grinned in response.

Draco’s lashes fluttered deliberately, and somehow, the song that was playing was perfectly sensual. Instantly, Draco was swaying his hips, trailing his soft, elegant hands up and down the bare parts of his torso, long fingers twirling around his nipples, and along the protrusions of his ribs. Every movement was drawn out and deliberate, and his sultry, half-lidded eyes watched Harry unwaveringly. His fingers trailed upwards one last time, curling around his slim neck in a gesture that elongated it, before they plunged quickly down the front of his tight, black bottoms. 

Flexible hips jumped forward once, twice, but then Draco was withdrawing his hand and curving them over his hips over the leggings, squeezing, then gripping and tugging them down. He pulled them from the indent of his waist all the way to just below his hips, putting a gentle, pale sprinkling of hair on display, along with allowing part of his flushed cock to peak out. 

Harry palmed his cock as he watched, but he could feel his self control slipping with every swing of Draco’s hips, and every twitch of his fingers. Draco was enjoying himself far too much, pushing every movement to the limit of seductive, and not wasting a single motion. He looked beautiful, refined, and graceful, somehow, despite the crudeness of a stripshow. 

When he’d finally pushed the trousers down his hips, baring his full cock to Harry, Harry lost control. He was across the floor in seconds once more, and just like earlier, was violent, and impatient as he shoved Draco onto the bed, and crouched above him.

“So pretty,” he purred into his lovers ear, and smirked when it caused the slim man beneath him to preen. His hands trailed up and down his sides for a moment, before he was standing back and looking down at Draco, half on and half off the edge of their mattress. 

Draco shot him a withering look, as if daring him to postpone their fucking any longer. Before he could voice his complaints, however, Harry was on the floor before him, and gently taking on of his ankles into his hand. He dropped a soft kiss to the bone there before he gently eased the gorgeous heel off his lover’s foot. 

Draco nodded briefly and relaxed back against their comforters, not taking his eyes off of Harry. Silvery blue rings, slimmed by his lust dilated pupils, shivered slightly against the whites as his eyes shifted to take in everything of the scene before him.

When Harry had eased both shoes off his lover, dropping gentle kisses to the top of his feet as he did so, he allowed his impatience to once again consume his motions, and violently yanked the leggings off his lover. Draco let out a sound of delight, and tried to pull back so he could adjust on the bed, but Harry caught his wrist before he could. 

Draco had opened his mouth to protest, but Harry was already replacing the shoes on his feet. Not allowing his lover to protest (though Harry wasn’t completely sure he would or not), Harry rose and dropped a gently kiss to Draco’s lips.

“Nu-uh,” he hummed, grinning somewhat wickedly down at Draco when he pulled back, “You’re gonna be wearing these when I fuck you tonight.”

At first Harry was unsure how Draco would react, but a grin of his own quickly overtook his soft features, and he raised his heel adorned feet to prod at Harry’s back.

“Well, what are you waiting for, then? Take too long and I’ll take them off.”

Harry didn’t need any more prompting. He was on top of Draco instantly, dragging his lover’s light body along the covers, until he was completely on their bed. Draco, similarly, wasted no time in wrapping his legs around Harry’s still clothed hips. He tightened them abruptly, causing Harry to fall completely atop him, and then turned his head to whisper sensually in his ear; “Fuck me with your denims on.”

Harry had no qualms with that. He tore his shirt off and over his head, throwing it directionlessly, and was smothering Draco’s mouth with kisses the second it was out of his way. 

His tongue plunged it and out, dragging Draco’s with him in a powerful dance. Draco, unusually, submitted rather quickly, and allowed himself to be tugged along for the ride. His hands were trailing up and down Harry’s muscled back, sometimes gentle and sometimes rough, his nails dragging what was sure to be thick red welts, and then smoothing over them almost apologetically.

It seemed to Harry like they were kissing forever, but the throb in his legs was getting painful, and he was off Draco’s lips far too soon. He trailed his teeth and tongue across his cheek, into his ear, along his jaw and down his neck. Draco moaned and gasped, making no effort to conceal his pleasure. His whole body jerked when Harry wrapped his lips around a nipple, and sucked violently. He didn’t even grace the other with a touch, trailing impatiently along Draco’s flat stomach towards the deep lines of his hips, all but pointing towards his throbbing, red cock. 

Teasingly, Harry dipped his head to kiss the tip, but both of them were far too wound up at this point for foreplay of this extent. He continued downwards until he reached the quivering pink pucker of Draco’s ass, leaned in, and blew lightly against it.

Draco’s whole body jerked with the action, and then his hands were scrabbling to the inside of his knees, deliberately holding them up and open to give Harry better access. 

Harry popped a gentle kiss against the entrance before allowing his tongue to press it. Draco’s entire body was tense and shivering with the intensity of their encounter, so it took a little bit of effort to work the muscle in, but the symphony of pleased groans, rough gasps and sweet moans were more than worth it. He pressed his tongue deeper and deeper into the orifice, re-mapping its already familiar shape, and flicking against pleasure spots he knew were here and there. He plunged as deeply as he could, then quickly flicked out so that his tongue was just inside the orifice, and swirled. 

“Harry,” Draco’s every sound was pleading now, his legs trembling where he struggled to hold them up, “come on.”

Harry smirked against the opening, dropping one more quick kiss to it, before pulling back.

“Impatient?” Harry teased, though he himself was already painful with pleasure. “We’re not even half there yet?”

Draco let out a sound that could have been mistaken for pleased, maybe, but Harry knew Draco well enough to know that it was rage. Harry fluttered his eyelashes in false innocence. “Hmm?” he hummed, ambiguously.

Draco sent a heeled foot flying towards his face, albeit shakily, but Harry had seen the action coming. He could Draco gently around the ankle, grinned as wickedly as he could muster, and shoved to leg up to his face. Draco flicked his head just quick enough to miss his own knee, and shot Harry the dirtiest look he could muster, all flushed and tremulous with pleasure.

Harry licked his lips. “Well, if you’re feeling that needy, I suppose I could start preparing you now.”

Draco smacked his head back against the bed in an exaggerated action of exasperation. “Don’t need it,” he insisted, “just get inside, now.”

Harry quirked a brow.

“Goddammit. Fuck me, Harry, right now, please!”

Pleased, Harry rocked back onto his haunches, leaning over Draco’s spread, and pliant body. His hands were at his jeans in a second, and god, how had he held out so long, with the friction of his boxer-briefs literally painful that this point. His cock was out in an instant, and half for Draco’s request, and half because he was just so impatient, he left his jeans hanging loose and open around his hips.

He almost missed the way Draco’s who body arched against the bed, almost missed his scream of pleasure, when stars overtook his vision and blood rushed to his ears, blinding him with the sudden and violent pleasure of being inside his boyfriend. One violent thrust had him in to the hilt, and him and Draco already delirious with the sensation.

He wasted no time in starting a pace, and he’d found Draco’s pleasure spot almost instantaneously. Wound up as they were, the fucking was brutal and hard, and Draco was just so lovely with the pretty shoes at his ankles, blurred words on his torso, and smudged lipstick around his lips. Harry’s tongue was in his mouth before he’d consciously decided to kiss him.

Draco met his every thrust eagerly, but unharmonized, unable to keep up with Harry’s speed. He rolled, undulated and moaned like a whore, thrashing and clinging to the sheets around his head. His mouth was open with abandon, and he accepted the pleasure shamelessly. 

Harry pulled back from their kissing, and dipped his head so it was next to Draco’s, his lips at his ears. He immediately started a litany of praises, switching between soft and dirty erratically. Draco accepted every whisper, one arm reached to wrap loosely around his neck, while the other remained fisted tightly in the sheets. At the word ‘beautiful’ - always Draco’s favorite, and Harry kept it safely in reserve as not to lessen its effect - he was cumming, head throw back and eyes blown wide, mouth gaping open and letting out a low, drawn out groan.

The spastic clenching around Harry’s cock was maddening, and he was following his lover over the edge in an instant, panting his name like a prayer. He didn’t slow his thrusts until he was well beyond spent, and Draco was making gasping little ‘oh’s with every thrust against his oversensitized prostate. 

An erotic trail of cum followed his cock out of Draco’s ass, causing his tender cock to twitch in a weak attempt at refilling. As arousing as the sight was - Draco, thoroughly debauched beneath him - he was far too spent for anything more. 

Draco’s eyes were already lidded with sleep. Harry dropped a soft kiss to each of them, and was awarded with a rare, unguarded smile from his lover.

“Clean me,” he demanded, though his voice was rough from his earlier screaming.  
Harry obeyed immediately, flicking his hand and mumbling the spell, tidying them both thoroughly and wandlessly. With that done, he wasted no time in collapsing uselessly atop his lover.

Draco groaned slightly at the added weight, but made no further protest.

Harry nuzzled into his sweat matted hair, watching his boyfriend slowly drift into sleep. The exhaustion was wearing on him, as well.

“‘Night,” he mumbled, not really expecting a response.

He was pleasantly surprised to receive a quiet ‘love you’, and showed his lover as such with lazy, affectionate kisses until they were both fast asleep.

Somehow, through it all, the candy apple red shoes had fallen off the bed, onto Harry’s abandoned, lipstick smudged shirt below.


End file.
